


(Not) Ready for the Summer!

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Summer Camp, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4094056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I hope you change your mind over the summer.”</p><p>Louis says it as if he had heard Harry’s thoughts about how his summer is going to suck. <i>Did you hear my thoughts?</i> Louis doesn’t flinch, doesn’t say anything. Of course. Of course he can’t hear Harry’s thoughts. He just wants Harry to get excited about summer and camping and blah, blah, blah.</p><p>Louis seems that kind of guy, the guy who loves everything and wants everyone to feel the same way he feels. That—sucks. Harry doesn’t need to be on cloud nine about summer when he’s not talking with his best friend. And… anyway, whatever.</p><p>“Maybe. We’ll see.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not) Ready for the Summer!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stockholmsyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stockholmsyn/gifts).



**(Not) Ready for the Summer!**

**1.  
** A gentle shake pulls Harry out of his dream. It was a weird dream in which he was alone at the camp, and the water was acid green gnawing the pier and the ground surrounding the wood. He shouldn’t have watched _Friday the 13 th_ last night.

Blinking, his vision focuses to a guy standing in front of him. He’s wearing an overly nice smile. “We’re here,” he says.

“Oh.” Does he fell asleep in the way to the camp? Yeah. His iPod is dead and the lack of music didn’t bother him. “Um. Thanks.”

“You aren’t much excited, are you?”

The guy clutches the straps of his backpack, rocking his body back and forth. Is that his way of showing Harry that _he_ is excited and that Harry, by default, should be excited just as much? Thanks, but no thanks. This summer has everything to be the worst summer of his life.

Harry just shakes his head and smiles, forcing his dimple out to seem friendly and apologetic at once. The guy places a hand over Harry’s shoulder, still wearing his so-happy-to-be-here smile.

“I’m Louis, by the way,” he says, giving his hand to him.

“Harry.”

They shake hands and walk out the bus.

“I hope you change your mind over the summer.”

Louis says it as if he had heard Harry’s thoughts about how his summer is going to suck. _Did you hear my thoughts?_ Louis doesn’t flinch, doesn’t say anything. Of course. Of course he can’t hear Harry’s thoughts. He just wants Harry to get excited about summer and camping and blah, blah, blah.

Louis seems that kind of guy, the guy who loves everything and wants everyone to feel the same way he feels. That—sucks. Harry doesn’t need to be on cloud nine about summer when he’s not talking with his best friend. And… anyway, whatever.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

 **2.  
** Harry is sharing a cabin with Louis and four other guys: Josh, Matt, Liam and Zayn. They all seem to know each other, for Louis hugging and kissing their faces (he even slaps Liam’s butt). Josh and Matt shook hands with Harry and stormed off after the girls.

Harry steps out of the cabin and into the woods. He doesn’t have a clue where the lake is—he doesn’t mind, he _wants_ to get lost in the green, wants to inhale the nature until he gets dizzy. Until there’s nothing in his mind. Nothing.

The nature does its job, but the smell of green is not enough to switch off Harry’s brain. He keeps thinking, thinking and thinking.

Spotting the lake, Harry walks toward the edge and stands there, an inch away from the water. He takes all of his clothes off, except his briefs and makes his legs move into the lake. The cold water pierces through his body as a million needles.

He walks further, until the water covers his head. He closes his eyes and counts to ten.

One, two. Harry’s body shivers underwater. Three, four, five. He can’t think of anything but the icy water around him. Six, seven. He opens his eyes, a weak ray of sunshine crosses the lake. Eight, nine. His eyes burn. Ten. Harry needs air.

He goes back to surface, gulping for air; his lungs hurt to make company to his eyes. It’s—it’s perfect. A moment of nothing. Nothing matters, only his heart drumming in his ears, the rush of blood shutting off his mind.

Harry tries to keep his mind that way: blank. But slowly, his thoughts come back, as if they just went out for a short walk and ran back to him because they can’t leave Harry alone, not even for a damn second.

He lets his body flows and allows his thoughts to colonize his brain. That’s the only way to deal with that, right? Let them be. Let them exist until their existence ceases.

All right, then.

Harry should have forced himself to say at least a bye to Niall, even if over the phone. He shouldn’t have dealt with it the way he did, shouldn’t have stopped talking to him. Knowing Niall, he must be feeling pretty bad after realizing Harry went to summer camp without saying goodbye to him. Niall must be feeling bad, and ashamed when he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. That’s on Harry. Harry is the only one who should feel that way.

Yet, he couldn’t—he just _can’t_ face Niall.

Taking a deep breath, Harry ducks his head underwater one more time. When he comes back, Louis is there, in the pier, hugging a towel and dangling his legs. How long has he been here? Is he watching Harry this whole time? Was he—

“Are you following me?”

Louis isn’t affected by the harsh tone of his voice. Actually, he smiles. All big and friendly. “No. I saw you leaving the cabin and guessed you’re coming here.”

“What if I was only hiking?”

“Then I’d be an idiot carrying a towel.”

Harry chuckles. Why would he even bother? Sure, Harry would do the same thing, not to a total stranger, though, unless… unless Harry was trying to befriend the person. That’s it. Louis wants to be Harry’s friend and—Harry could use a friend right now.

So, he swims to the pier and hops on the wooden surface, careful not to wet Louis in the process. It doesn’t go as well as his intentions, but, well, Louis doesn’t seem to mind.

He wraps the towel around Harry’s shoulders and head.

“Thanks,” mumbles Harry, trying not to shiver and chatter his teeth.

“What were you thinking there? You seemed—I don’t know, not peaceful.”

Harry hugs the towel around himself. “Troubled?”

“Yeah. _Troubled_.”

A few droplets fall from the tips of Harry’s hair, landing on his bare chest. He tightens the towel on his head, letting it suck the water out of his locks. What he should say? He can’t tell Louis about Niall right now.

“Nothing,” he says. Louis opens his mouth, as if to say something. Before he can say anything, Harry adds, “Some stuff back home.”

Closing his mouth, Louis nods. “That’s why you aren’t excited to be here?”

Harry looks away, the Sun has gone, leaving behind nothing but a faint orange turning to dark blue. “Yeah, I—yeah.”

Silence lurks around them. It’s oddly comfortable, being here, just enjoying Louis presence, even though his body complains, craving warm clothes.

“C’mon, let’s not miss dinner,” Louis says. “And you need to take a shower. I know it sounds appealing, but you don’t really want to get sick first day of camp.”

 **3.  
** Harry freezes when Louis cracks the cabin door open after dinner.

There are two bunk beds and two beds in the room, the beds are drawn together, forming an uneven double bed. Liam’s there, sitting on the edge; Zayn’s there too, with his legs tangled around Liam’s body. They share the kind of kiss Harry only sees in those sappy movies Gemma likes so much, when the guy comes back from war or something equally dramatic.

Pressing his elbow in Harry’s ribs, Louis mumbles, “D’you mind?”

The words don’t even try to come out of his mouth. Harry shakes is head, their kiss is hypnotizing, all tongue and teeth; hungry.

“Is that a problem?” Comes Louis’ voice again.

“Sorry, what?”

“I’m—I’m gay too. Is that a problem?”

Harry swallows. It’s so easy for Louis to say _I’m gay_. “No, no. Not a problem.”

Louis’ lips tug up in a light smile. No, nothing like summer!-let’s-be-friends! smiles he’s given Harry earlier. It doesn’t suit him.

“That’s enough, you two.”

Breaking the kiss with a loud pop, Zayn covers half of his face on Liam’s shoulders, blinking his eye mischievously, as if he doesn’t even mind getting caught sharing such kiss with Liam. Liam’s eyes go from Harry to Louis’ face. He relaxes, smiling down at Zayn.

Cool, he’s sharing a cabin with people braver than he is.

 **4.  
** Harry rolls to his side on the tiny bunk and stares at the wall. Zayn and Liam were murmuring to each other things in that language only couples understand. Sometimes, a loud _muack_ echoed through the cabin, landing right in Harry’s ear. 

The mumbling has gone, but the uneasy churn it left in Harry’s stomach hasn’t, and now is eating away his sleep.

Landing his feet on the cold floor, Harry tiptoes across the room. A short glance shows Zayn wrapped around Liam’s chest, legs tangled and fingers laced. He looks away and slips out the door. The cicadas sing outside and the wind ruffles his hair, pushing a curl to his eyes. The camp is quiet now, that’s probably the only time the place is like that: desert and silent.

Harry tries the kitchen door. It opens easily. Victory! They won’t miss two loaves of bread and some cheese, will they? Nah. And besides, that’s camper’s food. Harry’s a camper.

He sits down on the porch behind the kitchen; leaves dance with the wind and footsteps echo, getting closer and closer. Well, if this isn’t the perfect time for Jason Voorhees to show up? Harry really shouldn’t have watched _Friday the 13 th_.

It isn’t Jason Voorhees, though. It’s Louis emerging from the woods, cigarette pending from his pink lips and skin glowing, bathed by the moonlight.

“That’s a nasty habit, you know?” The crust of his sandwich is perfectly golden. He’s getting really good at his cooking thing.

Louis occupies the place next to Harry, pressing their bodies from arm to thigh. “I know, mom.”

“Didn’t see you leaving the cabin.” Harry fishes up a piece of grilled cheese big enough to fill his mouth.

Louis blows out smoke; it leaves his mouth in fluid motion. “That’s because you’re too busy fidgeting on your bed.”

Honestly. Harry stuffs his mouth with more bread and cheese, so he doesn’t have to say anything. What could he say, after all? _I’m sorry, but your friends made me think of things I can’t even tell myself_? Guess not.

“Are you really okay staying with us? I think I can find someone to swi—”

“No. No. I mean. It’s fine, really. It’s just—” Damn. He could have stopped at _really_ , but no. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

A frown decorates Louis’ brow. His eyes are so blue, even in the darkness. “Is there something you wanna talk about?”

Yes. But he can’t—he can’t. Harry swallows down the rest of his sandwich. Louis sucks on his cig and then smashes the filter on the wood beneath them.

“Not… Not right, um, now.”

Why it was so hard to say?

 **5.  
** After a day filled with camp activities such as: waking up by Led Zeppelin, running after a ball (because, really, that’s what soccer is) only to have Louis making fun of his lack of general skills and a long afternoon at the lake with the cabin boys, Harry finds himself perched against Louis in a long trunk, stick in hand and marshmallow toasting in the fire.

How very cliché.

Josh has a flashlight under his chin, creating a faux-spooky mask on his face. He’s telling a terrifying story involving some girl and some taxi driver; clearly he memorized the whole thing to try and make an impression. His acting is shit, though. The girl and the bus driver share the same voice.

If Niall were here, he’d know how to scare the shit out of everyone.

Louis slaps Harry’s stick out of the fire, his marshmallow almost touches the ground.

“Stop daydreaming, Harry.” He grins at him. “You almost burned your marshmallow.”

Yeah. There’s a fine black crust around it. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Is there something wrong?” Louis’ blue eyes search Harry’s face.

Harry looks away. “Nothing.”

He should tell him. They’re going to be friends, aren’t they? Friends share things. He doesn’t need to tell everything just now, he can tell… something. Something is enough.

“It’s my best friend.” Harry picks out the burned crust, piece by piece. “We aren’t talking. I—I came here without saying goodbye to him.”

Josh finishes his horror story. Instead of screams and gasps, the circle laughs and snickers; even Josh is among them, flashlight still tucked under his chin. Now that’s a scary thing to see.

Louis doesn’t seem to expect more from Harry, just like the other night. “I see. Best friend drama.”

Harry nods, stuffing his mouth with what he managed to save from his marshmallow.

“Y’know, I fought with Zayn when he started dating Liam. I hated him. I thought he was stealing Zayn from me,” Louis tells Harry. No, he whispers to Harry, like a secret. “Sometimes I still think he could—I don’t know…”

Why is Louis telling him that? He can’t even bring himself to tell Louis about Niall. So unfair.

“Anyway.” Louis shrugs. “Whatever. It’s gonna be fine with your bestie, I promise. I’m kinda fond of Liam now.” He opens a big smile, showing Harry his askew teeth.

Harry nods, not sure what to say.

“Okay,” a blond girl says, standing up. “Thanks, Josh. It was refreshing.” The small circle laughs again. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Taylor and I’m one of the camp counselors. I just want to let you all guys know that you can start thinking about the talent show. It’d be cool if everyone participates this summer.”

“Good luck with that,” Louis says.

Taylor spins her head, blond locks going along as a shampoo ad. She shoots Louis a glare that could set the whole camp on fire. “Some people have real talent here, Louis. That’d be nice to see, y’know. For a change.”

Louis tightens his lips, giving a Taylor a smile—a crooked and ugly smile. Harry’s eyes jump from Louis face to Taylor’s legs walking away.

“What was that?”

“Don’t mind her. She’s just a general pain in the ass.”

“She’s Louis’ neighbor.” Zayn gives Louis a good shove in the arm. They scoot over, giving room for him and Liam to sit on the trunk.

Louis huffs, defeated. “She hates me because I pushed her in a little, insignificant puddle when we’re kids and made her tooth fall.”

“You stole her tooth, though.”

Harry chuckles, hand flying to cover his mouth.

“But,” Louis says. “She’s rather sweet for my sisters and mom loves her, so… bearable.”

“I think she has a crush on Louis and doesn’t admit to herself Louis likes dick,” Zayn says.

Harry’s cheeks heat up. _Dick_. Thank God for the darkness.

“So much for high school drama.”

It seems like summer is going to be an okay deal.

 **6.  
** In the morning, Harry tests Zayn’s theory.

He searches for Taylor’s blonde hair; she’s sitting two tables away. Her eyes are lost somewhere. Following her gaze Harry finds… Louis.

Louis meets his eyes, a piece of pancakes out of his mouth. “Why are you smirking?”

“I think Zayn’s right. About Taylor crushing you.”

Louis’ Adam’s apple bobs and he huffs a dry laugh. “Et tu, Brute?”

“See, Lou?” Zayn says, and then hangs the palm of his hand up in the air. Harry slaps it. “I’m always right.”

“Oh, please.” Louis rolls his eyes dramatically. “What makes you think that?”

“Erm, she was staring at you.”

Louis holds his gaze for a long while. A small smirk decorates the corner of his mouth, his eyes glint. Harry’s heart does a completely out of place flip. He can’t look away. Just _can’t_. “I’m staring at you. Does that mean I have a crush on you?”

Good God. Harry looks away now, to his plate; he picks up a sausage and fills his mouth. The idea of Louis having a crush on him. It doesn’t… it—

“Context, Louis.”

Harry spies Louis’ face. He isn’t staring at him anymore. He’s waving at Taylor’s direction, wearing that awful smile again. Seeing half of it doesn’t make it any less ugly. Maybe that’s his Taylor smile, reserved just for her.

Taylor gives him a sourpuss face.

“Context, Louis,” he says, stealing a piece of bacon from Harry. He shoots him a pretty grin, as if he can get away with _stealing_ just smiling.

There’s only a piece of bread on Louis’ plate; Harry steals it, smiling at Louis as if he didn’t do anything.

Liam sits his tray on the table, flopping down next to Zayn, pecking his lips. It’s just that, an innocent lock of lips. Innocent enough to make the girls near their table look daggers at them. A wave of coldness runs through Harry’s veins.

He looks at Louis’ blue eyes instead. The coldness turns to heat. What’s worse?

Josh sits next to Louis, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. “You in the play this year, right?”

“No. I’m doing something else.”

Josh isn’t amused. “Guys, any of you wanna be in the play?”

“No,” Zayn and Liam say at the same time. Harry shakes his head.

“You guys suck,” Josh announces, jumping to another table to wrap his arm around another shoulder.

“You doing something?” Louis asks Harry. “For the talent show?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you have any talent?”

“I can sing and play guitar, but—I don’t know. I didn’t bring my guitar, so.”

There’s something weird in the way Louis looks at him. It’s almost like the way Zayn looks at Liam when Liam has his eyes somewhere… It isn’t the _same_ thing. Of course it isn’t.

“That can be arranged,” Louis says. “If you really wanna sing and stuff.”

Harry nods. He’ll keep that in mind.

 **7.  
** Louis is in the official camp’s soccer team, because, of course he is. They have a match against another camp’s team, something to do with tradition and having to kick their asses. Harry sits on the bleachers with Zayn, cheering and booing when he needs to. He occupies himself by tracking Louis moving in the field like he was born to be there. He walks, runs and shouts as a king missing a crown.

The most interesting thing to see in a soccer game, really. Louis in his element.

They win.

 **8.  
** The Sun lazily goes away and Harry swings his legs, humming anything in special. The last guy who entered the showers must be leaving at any moment now. The Sun gives Harry a final goodbye and vanishes, giving place to a few stars on the darkening sky. They guy finally walks out and now, Harry waits a few more moments, making sure he’ll be alone.

Placing his towel over the shoulder, Harry takes off his t-shirt and reaches for his jean shorts, but, before he can pop out the button, a moan echoes—no, a groan of pain.

Should he look around? His heart thunders in his ears, the oxygen comes in and out in short breaks. God. What if… he can’t even _think_ about it.

Tiptoeing, he forces his eyes to catch movement through the curtains. Nothing in this, nothing in that. Harry’s heart goes all the way up his throat, clogging it. Two more stalls. It won’t be anything. Breath.

Nothing in the next-to-last and in the last—he shouldn’t see that, he shouldn’t.

A minimum crack shows Harry Zayn’s body smashed into the wall by Liam’s. Naked. They’re naked. And for a moment, the image shifts to Harry pressed against Louis; Louis mouth on his neck.

He tiptoes back to the first stall, with his face burning and his heart still thundering in his ears.

 **9.  
** Later, fingers run in Harry’s hair.

“Harry,” Louis’ voice whisper. “Are you awake?”

Of course he’s awake, as if he could sleep after what happened in the showers. At least Zayn and Liam didn’t make a sound—that’d be the perfect soundtrack for the image of him and Louis burning in his mind.

“Yeah, Louis.”

Louis retreats his fingers, too fast. “We’re going to celebrate. Wanna come?”

Ah. He isn’t awake. Nope. He’s dreaming.

“We can’t leave camp,” Harry mumbles. “Are we allowed to leave?”

“Of course not,” Louis singsongs. “C’mon, wear something warm.”

 **10.  
** Louis leads Harry through the dark wood, until they reach a pickup parked near an oak tree. Zayn and Liam are inside, kissing. Harry looks away, shoving the moan he heard earlier to a dark corner in his brain. Christ.

Louis huffs beside him. “Knock it off.”

“You’re just jealous because—umph.” Zayn has his hand over Liam’s mouth.

“I bet you two can’t stay half an hour without kissing.”

The hand drops from Liam’s lips. Harry walks around the pickup and settles in the passenger seat.

“How much?” asks Liam.

“Hm.” The car roars to life, shaking Harry’s body. “Two dollars.”

“Deal.”

A grin cuts the side of Louis’ face. “Watch them for me, curly.”

He swallows. If only Louis knew what he saw… he wouldn’t ask Harry to watch Zayn and Liam. Ugh. He glances at the dashboard, searching for the clock. 23:43 p.m.

Harry’s eyes waffles between the patch covered by dry leaves, Louis’ hard expression, all good-driver, to Zayn and Liam’s arms pressed together.

There’s a person standing next the camp entrance, probably one of the counselors. Harry’s breathing speeds up. He shouldn’t be here. God, they’re going to call his mom and she’ll have to pick him up. He’ll be grounded for life. He can’t—can’t even hide.

The guy makes a signal to stop. That’s it. Oh, God. Why he didn’t stay at the cabin?

The car stops. Louis rolls down the window.

“Where are you all going?” Yeah. Counselor.

“The bar,” Louis says.

“Don’t come back too late, and try not to get drunk,” the counselor says. “At least one of you.”

This voice… oh, the morning announcements! It isn’t recorded, then. The lack of weather comments and the zombie quality of his voice made Harry think it was recorded in the 80s, since he never plays songs from this decade. The camp is full of surprises.

An offended noise leaves Louis’ mouth. “When didn’t I bring everyone back safe and sound, Nicholas?”

 Nicholas snorts. “It’s my duty to advise you, youngster.”

“Go back to your cave,” Louis says, bringing the pickup to life.

 **11.  
** At 00:02 a.m. Louis is two dollars richer.

 **12.  
** The bar is more like a cabin, really. A biiig cabin filled with half of the camp’s people.

Taylor’s here. She shouldn’t be here, should she? Taylor’s a counselor. A counselor! She should be in the camp. In the camp with morning-announcements Nicholas. But no, she’s here, making eyes at him.

Hmm… she must be jealous. Yes. Taylor’s jealous.

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders and pulls him closer. He smells so good, how Harry never noticed how good he smell? So, so good.

“What are you on about?” whispers Louis. A shiver runs down Harry’s spine.

“What?” What? Oh. Taylor. Taylor making eyes at him. Taylor _jealous_.

Harry laughs into Louis’ neck. “She’s so jealous, Lou.”

“Who?”

“Taylor.” Harry buries more of his face in Louis’ neck. So fucking good. “Look at her. She’s about to murder me with her eyes.”

“I think she’s pissed because you’re drunk and you’ll probably gonna stay all day in the cabin hungover tomorrow.” Harry wants to lick him. Can he do it? “Let’s go outside.”

“Nooo,” Harry protests, but Louis is already dragging him outside by his arm. “Her face is too funny.”

Louis says a _nah_ or a _hm_ and then, the night air hits his face. Harry reaches for Louis, his foot smashes something… something like someone else’s foot. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “Oh, God.”

Louis chuckles. “Don’t need to apologize to a tree, curly.”

Tree? What tree? Harry looks at Louis, his mouth is so red, two red lines creating the perfect smile. He wants to kiss him. Wow, does he? Fuck. He does. Harry wants to make out with Louis until his lips fall down.

He won’t run from him, because Louis isn’t Niall, and Harry isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t.

“Sit here.” Louis points to a blurry bench.

Harry does it and closes his eyes. The world spins around him.

“Drink this.” Louis magically appears with a magical bottle of water. And french fries. French fries covered with ketchup. Louis is a truly magical creature.

He swallows the water down, eyes glued on Louis’ face. When he’s done, he wraps his arms around Louis’ neck and says, “Wanna kiss you, Louis.” Oh, it was so easy to say. “Wanna kiss you until your lips fall down. I won’t run. I promise.”

Louis hums. Is that a yes? A no? Ah, he’s thinking. Harry eats some fries while he waits.

“What do you mean, you won’t run?” Louis asks before stuffing his mouth. Ketchup gets trapped in the corner of his lips. Harry thumbs it clean.

“Niall kissed me and I ran from him. Then we stopped talking. No. I stopped talking to him.”

Louis nods, then smiles, then passes his arm around Harry’s waist. He nestles into Louis, the world doesn’t spin as much.

He smacks a kiss on Harry’s forehead. Hm, he wanted a kiss on his mouth, but a kiss on the forehead isn’t bad.

It isn’t bad at all.

 **13.  
** A painkiller gives Harry good morning.

Groaning, he swallows it and flops down on the bed, hiding under the covers. His bones turned to jelly. How did that happen? It doesn’t matter. He just wants to sleep for the rest of his life.

The door cracks open. There are footsteps and a dip next to his body.

“Saved you breakfast.”

Harry squeezes his eyes. “Don’t speak so loud, Lou.”

“I’m not even—” Louis’ tone gets higher “—talking out loud.”

“Louis!”

Cupping Harry’s shoulder, Louis rolls Harry to his side.

“C’mon, eat.” He places the plate on Harry’s stomach.

Harry glances at it: scrambled eggs and sausage. “Don’t wanna.”

“Do I have to feed you sausage?”

“That’s what he said,” says Zayn, walking into the cabin. Ugh. That’s not even _funny_ and Louis is laughing. “How are you feeling?”

“Dead inside.”

“I thought you were going to puke on Liam’s sneakers yesterday.”

“What?” Harry hides his face in his hands and groans. “I didn’t, right?”

“No.” The sound of zipper opening and closing fills the room. “But almost.”

When Harry comes out his hands, Zayn’s gone. “Ouch.”

“He does that a lot, walks in and out like a ghost.”

Louis picks up a piece of sausage and, very slowly, guides it to Harry’s mouth. Shaking his head, Harry takes the sausage off his fingers.

He sits down and digs in the scrambled eggs. Breakfast at camp never tasted so good.

“I’ll let you eat and then we’ll talk, okay?” Louis says, leaving Harry alone with his plate to keep him company.

Talk. Talk about what?

Oh. _Oh_. Fuck. About yesterday.

He’s so screwed. So incredibly screwed.

 **14.  
** Harry finds Louis in one of the benches outside. He takes a deep breath. Play it cool. Keep it together.

“Hey,” he says, sitting next to Louis.

“Hey. Are you feeling less dead inside?”

“Yeah. Took a shower, ate some more.”

“Ah.” Louis stands up. “Mom always says showers make everything better.” He gives Harry his hand. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.”

Harry’s stupid heart does a flip. He stares at Louis dainty fingers. God. Last night he was ready to jump Louis and now—

“Don’t leave me hanging.”

He takes his hand. Louis laces their fingers and leads him into the woods.

“So, who’s Niall?”

“He’s my best friend.” Harry clutches Louis’ hand.

“You kissed him?”

“No. He kissed me.”

“Wanna tell me how it went?”

They’re strolling now, crushing dry leaves under their feet.

“We went out for burgers and we’re walking back to mine, because we’re going to watch some movie. He just went and kissed me. It was just a peck, really. I ran. I literally ran away from him.”

Louis nods his head.

“Why did you?”

Harry shrugs, even though Louis can’t see him. “Dunno.”

The cicadas chirp. The wind ruffles the leaves, and sends a shiver up Harry’s arm.

“Because he’s your best friend or because he’s a guy?”

Louis can’t see him, but Harry looks away from his head anyway. “Both. I—I really don’t know.”

“It’s okay, Harry.”

Reaching an old tree littered by wonky hearts and loopy initials, Louis sits under its shade. Harry sits next to him.

“D’you really wanna kiss me?”

Now a cold shiver runs through Harry’s body, even though his skin is melting away from his bones.

“I—” Say it. Say it. “I do.” There.

“You won’t run away from me?”

Harry blinks at the hole in his jean shorts. He’d run right now, but his legs are frozen, feet glued to the ground.

“Look at me, Haz.”

He does it, meeting a shy smile. It’s happening. Oh, God. Why this has to be so different from kissing a girl? It’s just… a pair of lips. But, fuck. It’s Louis’ pair of lips.

Louis leans closer, closer, closer. His lips meet Harry’s and—that’s not like pecking a girl. How’s that possible? Just a pair of lips.

They kiss again, and now Harry’s more at ease, his heart doesn’t beat like crazy. He can do it. Parting his lips, Harry lets Louis take control, lets his tongue explore his mouth and swirls itself into Harry’s own.

Louis pulls away, out of air and panting. “Don’t run,” he whispers.

“I won’t.”

 **15.  
** They kiss in the morning, when everyone is gone and their lips are still greased from breakfast, before and after Louis’ soccer practice.

They kiss in the afternoon, surrounded by water, when there’s no one in the lake but them, and the night falls gently behind their heads.

They kiss in the evening, when Louis hops down Harry’s bed and wraps Harry’s body in his arms as soon as Zayn and Liam’s voices mute.

 **16.  
** “Lou,” Harry calls. They’re in the pier. Harry’s head lying on Louis’ lap. “Lou?”

Louis blows smoke away from his general direction. It curls up Louis’ head, vanishing in the faded orange-ish sky. He looks down at Harry.

“I think I’m gonna sing in the talent show,” he says. “Dunno what song, though.”

“Hm.” Louis moves one of Harry’s curls away from his face. “ _Take Me to Church_.”

Harry shakes off Louis hands and sits on the boardwalk. “A song about gays?”

Louis gives his cig a final drag and smashes it on the wood. “About sex, actually. Hozier said so.”

 _Take Me to Church_ , uh? It’s a good song.

“I’m sorry if I—”

Harry shuts Louis by pecking his lips. “I was thinking.”

He kissed Louis. He kissed him, he never does it—Louis is the one kissing Harry, cuddling him. _Harry_ kissed _Louis_. And he kisses Louis again and again. Paints light kisses across his face, mouth and neck. Everywhere.

“We need to make a short trip,” he manages to say between Harry’s attacking mouth. “I’ll just—” he traps Harry’s bottom lip and pulls back, dragging his teeth out. “Talk to Nick, okay?”

Harry nods, brushing his lips on Louis’ cheekbones. “Okay.”

 **17.**  
Louis parks a few meters away from the camp entrance. “They can’t see us here,” he says.

He guides Harry, crushing Harry’s hand in those tiny fingers, as if he knows the place very well. In no time, they’re in the back of the cabins.

Louis peeps in the first, shakes his head and moves forward. He looks in the second one and beams. “He’s here.”

There’s a boy sitting on the edge of the bed, reading some book.

“Aiden!”

The boy—Aiden—pries his eyes from his book. A grin cuts his face. “Louis! Hey.”

He puts it down and reaches for the window, eyes tracked on Louis’ face.

“This is Harry, Aiden.”

Aiden’s eyes go big and his smile isn’t as pretty as the one he gave Louis. Actually, he barely smiles at Harry. “Hi, dude.”

“Hi.”

“Aiden I need your guitar borrowed. For the talent show.”

Aiden’s grin comes back as if it has never left. He ignores Harry altogether. “Magic word?”

Louis huffs, but says, “Please Aiden, could you please borrow me your guitar, please?”

“Yeah, baby. I’ll borrow you my guitar.”

Baby. _Baby_.

Louis pinches Harry’s side and smooths the skin. He bats his hand away, avoiding Louis’ face.

Aiden comes back and passes the guitar to Louis. “Stay a little,” he says, tone dreamy and hopeful. Disgusting.

“Can’t. Nick barely let us out.”

“You think I buy that?” Aiden is all smiles and hearts floating around his head.

“Dude, he’s changed! He can’t even let us go to the bar.”

Aiden makes a face. Louis adds, “Right, Haz?”

“Right.”

Aiden doesn’t look at Harry’s face. Louis is all he can see. Ugh.

“Well, thank you. I’ll bring it back as soon it’s over. Bye.”

Shouldering the guitar, Louis grabs Harry’s hand and guides him back through the same path. Harry looks over his shoulder; Aiden’s looking back at them. No. Louis.

 **18.  
** “He called you baby.”

Louis pulls Harry in a tight, awkward hug. “You’re jealous,” he mumbles into Harry’s neck.

“Please,” Harry huffs, hugging him back just as tightly. “Are you his baby though?”

God, what if he’s Louis boyfriend? What if he’s been kissing someone else’s boyfriend? But Louis is always there, in the camp. He’s always there _kissing_ Harry.

“He’s my ex.”

Ah. That’s why Louis knows the camp so well.

Louis kisses his face, pulling back. You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

Harry hides his face in the crook of Louis’ neck and sinks his teeth on his skin. He doesn’t make a peep. What would Niall say about it? What Niall—Niall.

“Lou,” he mumbles. “Is there any way I can call Niall? D’you have money on you?”

“You ready to talk to him?”

Harry nods. “I think I am.”

 **19.  
** Louis drives them to the city and parks in front of an ice cream parlor.

What he should say to Niall? _I’m sorry I ran from you?_ No. _I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye?_ Harry bites his index finger. Maybe that’s a bad idea. Yeah. He’ll tell Louis that. He’s not ready.

Louis comes out of the ice-cream parlor with two cups in his hands. He gives one to Harry and sits down on the bench.

“Not sure if I’m ready, Lou.” Harry feeds himself two spoons of ice-cream. He sets it aside and sighs. “Dunno what to say.”

“You’ll know.”

A bit of ice-cream stains the corner of Louis’ mouth. He aches to clean it, but he can’t, not here where everyone can see them.

Louis takes out of his pocket a bunch of coins and places on Harry’s palm. This is it, then. Taking a deep breath, Harry crosses the street and goes to the payphone. He inserts the coin and dials Niall’s number.

Niall picks up on the fourth ring. Before he can greet him, Harry says, “Hey. It’s me, Harry.”

There’s silence.

“Harry, I’m so sorry. I thought I had a crush on you, that’s why I kissed you. I don’t have a crush on you, promise. I miss you.”

It takes a moment to process Niall’s words. Crush on you. Don’t. Sorry. Miss you.

“I miss you too. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

“That’s okay. I wasn’t mad.” Silence. “I met this girl, I think I may reach second base.”

Harry laughs. Louis watches him from the bench, giving Harry a thumbs up.

“Nice, Ni.”

“And you? Met someone?”

Worrying at his bottom lip, Harry looks away from Louis’ face. “Yeah. I met this guy.”

“Oh.” Niall’s surprised tone rings through his ear. Surprised and kind of happy. “Second base?”

“Niall!”

Niall chuckles. “D’you like him?”

Aiden’s awfully nice smile flashes in Harry’s mind, his voice calling Louis _baby_. “Hm. I—don’t know.” He plays with the hem of his tee. “Anyway, I miss talking to you.”

“Me too, Hazza.”

Then, the line is dead.

 **20.  
** Staring at the payphone, Harry places a curl behind his ear. This is it, then? He goes back, sits down next to Louis and takes a hold of his cup of ice-cream. Just a phone call and everything is fine again?

“How was it?”

“Fine. He said he kissed me because he had a crush on me.” Harry moves the tiny red spoon around his half melted ice-cream. Louis put stuff on it: sprinkles and two cherries. “Did you know how they make this?” Harry fishes one of the cherries and holds it in front of Louis’ face. “It’s disgusting. This cherry is full of chemicals that are bad for yo—”

Louis bites the little spoon, giving Harry a smug smile. “How’s that crush going?

“Dead. He’s met a girl.”

Maybe… maybe it is that easy. Maybe Niall pecking his lips wasn’t a big deal after all.

Louis passes his arm over Harry’s shoulder. And then, everything stops. His arm weighs a million pounds; it is as if everyone in the ice-cream parlor, the street and in the city now takes notice of Harry and Louis, in Louis’ arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulder.

“Good to know,” Louis whispers.

Harry eats the remaining cherry, eyes falling on the end of the street. Three guys are making their way up the sidewalk.

“Can we go back, Lou?” Harry bites his bottom lip.

“What? Now?”

“Yeah. I—” Think. Think. Think. “I’d like to start practicing. I’m sure I’ll have to tune the guitar. That’ll take a while. I’m—I’m rusty.”

Louis chuckles. “Okay, rock star.” He kisses Harry’s cheek.

A cold shiver runs his spine. Louis stands up, gives his hand to Harry. Forcing his legs to move, he leaves Louis hanging and walks ahead of him, pretending he hadn’t seen Louis’ offer. He climbs on the passenger’s seat, face burning hot.

“You okay?” Louis’ hand land on Harry’s thigh.

Looking at his fingers, Harry says, “Yeah, just. Talking to Niall—y’know?”

His eyes jump to Louis’ face; he nods and drives away.

Why does the camp need to be so goddamn far?

 **21.  
** Harry finds Louis outside in the kitchen’s porch, smoking. Hugging the bowl of popcorn, Harry comes closer, sitting down on the floor next to Louis’ dangling legs.

“We need to stay here awhile,” Louis says. “Zayn and Liam are in the cabin, doing you know what.”

“What about the other guys?”

“They’re never there, shouldn’t be a problem.”

Harry snorts. “Right.” He places the bowl on his thighs. “I’ve seen them, you know?”

Louis hums, jumping down to sit next to Harry. He drags on his cigarette.

“Doing you know what, in the showers,” Harry adds. Smoke lingers under Harry’s nose. “Louis! Not on my face.”

“Sorry, Hazza.”

He knits his brows, earning a funny face from Louis, who shows him the cig and smashes in on the wood. That’s beginning to be a normal thing for him to do.

“Anyway.” Louis fills his hands with popcorn. “That’s nothing. Once I caught Liam balls deep in Zayn in my bed.”

 _Balls deep_. A hot wave washes Harry from head to toe.

“I was out to get some food and—I don’t know what they thought, really.”

Harry laughs. He’s supposed to laugh, right? God, he needs to change the subject. Something less… sexual. “I think I’m going to the gym.” What a stupid thing to say. Idiot.

“Why?”

“Hate my baby fat.”

“I like your baby fat.” Louis gives Harry’s stomach a good look. He brings the bowl a little closer.

Louis passes his arm around his shoulders, just like the other day, but this time it doesn’t weigh a million pounds. Still, it isn’t natural. _Relax. Nobody can see us here. Relax._ And, if somebody sees them, it won’t matter, will it. Nothing can happen here. Apart from those two awful girls, nobody seems to mind Zayn and Liam. Why would they mind Harry and Louis?

Taking a deep breath, Harry leans into Louis. “I think I’m gonna buy new clothes too. Tighter pants.”

This sucks. He should shut up, Louis doesn’t want to hear about the person he wants to be, but isn’t brave enough to let come out.

“You’ll be all smoking hot and I won’t stand a chance.” Louis gasps dramatically. “You won’t even remember me!”

As if Harry could forget Louis. “Have you ever thought about going into drama? If the soccer thing doesn’t work out, you could be a famous actor.”

“As a matter of fact,” Louis says. “I’ve been in three school plays. Lead actor.”

Placing the bowl on Louis’ lap, Harry makes himself more comfortable against him. “See. I was right. What did you play?”

“Danny Zuko. All of them.”

Harry searches for Louis’ fingers and keeps himself busy by fitting and unfitting his own in the gaps. A light breeze runs around them.

“Aiden was in the last one.”

Harry huffs. “Don’t tell me he was the co-star.”

“He was a tree.” Louis laughs, the sound void of humor. “No. He wasn’t, but he didn’t have a line. Just wanted to be in the play with me.”

Ah. That’s… cute. Ish. “What happened between the two of you?”

Louis kisses Harry’s shoulder, another wave passes. “He cheated on me with some girl.”

Turning his head, Harry faces Louis. His expression is blank. “Asshole.”

“He was discovering himself, what he likes and dislikes. Turns out, he’s bi.”

“You seem pretty calm about the whole thing.”

Louis’ lips hitch up, mouth a tempting shade of red. “I didn’t like him as much as I thought.”

That explains the look on Aiden’s face, then. He probably thinks he can get Louis back someday.

“Will you—um.” Avoiding his eyes, Harry squeezes Louis’ hand. “Get back together?”

“With Aiden?”

Harry nods.

“Nah. Besides, I’m glad we broke up.”

“Why?”

“Because—” He kisses Harry’s cheek and the corner of his lips. “I wouldn’t get to kiss you whenever I want.”

A small giggle leaves Harry’s mouth without his permission.

 **22.  
** The talent show play is awful. Clearly, nobody took the idea seriously.

There’s Josh, trying to keep a straight face and _act_ , when, in fact, he can’t stop touching the girl who is supposed to be his sister. The scenery is of a house, a tree and a sun wearing sunglasses painted on a white sheet. The plot is hard to follow. Harry has given up ages ago.

“The play’d have been better if I was on stage,” Louis whispers.

It would have been just as awful, but Harry nods anyway. “What are you doing, again?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Hm, surprise.

“Alright,” Josh call from the stage. “This is the end. Y’all can clap now.”

A round of applause echoes through the rec area before Taylor takes the makeshift stage to herself. A pink guitar clutched to her hand. She isn’t going to sing Louis a song, is she?

“I’m going to sing a song that means a lot to me. Hope you like it,” she says.

And then, the first lyrics of _Video Games_ come to life, out of her bright purple mouth. Harry tracks her face, just to make sure she’s playing it to Louis and—she isn’t. Taylor doesn’t even look at him, or anyone for that matter.

Maybe she doesn’t have a crush on him, after all. Maybe he imagined all of that.

Louis nudges Harry’s side, says, “I’m next.” As if Harry doesn’t already know.

Taylor finishes her song and another thunder of claps roars. At the end of the mini stairs, she stops to talk to Louis. It’s a short conversation that has both of them smiling. Uh.

“Okay, so,” Louis says, once on the stage. “I’m doing some kick-ups and I want y’all to count it for me.”

A ball flies into his hands. It’s amazing what he can do with his foot and a ball, really. He never lets if fall, not even when the ball goes to the back of his neck. The kick-ups stop at the number seventy-eight. “I could go longer,” he says, beaming. “But we’d stay here all night and I want you guys to listen my friend Harry singing.”

 _Harry singing_.

He takes a deep breath and grabs Aiden’s guitar, making his way to the stage. Louis claps his back and winks at him.

The floor squeaks under his shoes, the strings burn the back of his fingers as he sits on the edge, placing the guitar over his thigh. He searches for the blue of Louis’ eyes and stares at them one last time before he sings _him_ a song.

The crowd goes quiet. He still has time to change back to _Take Me to Church_. He doesn’t want to, he—he strums the first notes of _I Wanna Be Yours_. No turning back.

His eyes jump from Josh’s head to Liam’s sandy hair to Taylor’s wavy curls. At some point, voices sing along with Harry, forming a low chant that warms his heart, his cheeks. He plays the last note, and only then, when claps and whistles echo in his ears, he allows himself a glance at Louis.

He’s clapping like a maniac, wearing a big smile, sharp teeth sunk in his bottom lip.

Harry hunches his shoulders and smiles at the ground.

 **23.  
** There’s a bonfire after the talent show. Harry stands by the fire, hugging his own body, chest heavy with warmth. He was so obvious back in the rec area, so obvious, telling Louis what he wants without exactly telling him.

The fire dances up the sky. His side, once cold, comes to live when Louis presses their arms together. “We can go now,” he says.

“Where to?”

“The cabin.” Louis’ finger nudges the back of his hand. He walks ahead of Harry. “C’mon, Hazza.”

He follows Louis. What are they… oh. That’s why they had to stay out that other day—oh, God. Harry takes a deep breath. It is happening, it’s fucking happening. Okay. He can do it. He can do… whatever Louis wants to do.

Harry can. Whatever. He can.

Once in the cabin, Harry sits down on his bed and takes off his shoes, ignoring the loud melody of his heart resonating through his whole body.

Louis kicks off his sneakers; he’s much more calm, and collected. As if nothing major is about to happen. “Don’t you need to be nervous.”

“What? No.”

Lacing one arm around Harry’s shoulder, Louis leans closer. “Yeah, I believe you,” he says, tone making pretty clear he _doesn’t_. His thumb smooths the skin beneath Harry’s eye. “You sing really well.”

Harry’s cheeks heat up. “Thanks.” _It was for you._

He closes his eyes, already parting his lips for Louis’ tongue to me his own. Their lips met with a shock. Louis’ lips are fruity from the cheap punch and warm. Harry licks inside his mouth, wrapping his tongue into Louis’, exploring every corner he knows too well by now.

Louis brings both their bodies down on the mattress, jumping from Harry’s lips to his neck, to bite and suck, claim his skin.

Opening his eyes, Harry meets Louis’ face, half illuminated by the night sky. He sweeps his hair behind his ear and his finger lingers on the warm spot behind it.

“Have you ever had sex, Hazza?”

Harry shakes his head, his voice trapped somewhere in his throat.

“Has anybody felt you up?”

Harry shakes his head again. God.

“No even a girl?”

Harry bites his bottom lip. “No,” he says before closing the gap between their mouths. “Have you? Had sex, I mean.”

“Yeah.” Louis’ hand invades Harry’s tee and runs his fire-fingers across his stomach. How do you breathe, again? In, out. In. Out. “Once or twice with Aiden.”

Of course. They’re boyfriends. Harry nods. “Cool.”

Louis snorts, and then kisses the corner of his mouth; his hands explore everywhere, from Harry’s ribs to Harry’s nipples, his belly, the strip of skin under his navel.

“Harry…” Louis’ whisper goes straight to Harry’s cock, as if it knows his intentions before Louis voices it. “Can I?”

“Yeah.” He breathes out, tracking Louis’ hand.

He works on undoing the button and pulling the zipper of his shorts down, then his hand vanishes inside. Harry’s breathe catches. That’s Louis’ hand inside his briefs, _Louis’_ hand. A hand that isn’t his own, down his underwear.

His hips lift up on its own, eager for Louis’ touch. His warm, solid touch. And he’s not even touching him properly, not yet. A thin layer still separates Louis’ hand from Harry’s dick.

Louis traces his index finger along Harry’s aching cock, rubbing it lightly. “Been thinking about you like this,” Louis whispers, lips pressed into Harry’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Mh-hmm.” Now, Louis’ hand goes inside his briefs to get a tight grip around the base.

_Shit, shit, shit._

“You drive me crazy with those tiny shorts of yours. I jerked myself raw just thinking about you.”

A strangled noise hovers between Harry’s lips and Louis’ face. Was that him?

“Put your pants down,” Louis says, voice deep and sensual, ringing right on the tip of Harry’s dick.

Harry doesn’t even know what part of his body isn’t warm and blazing with fire. Maybe his foot. He kicks his shorts away and hooks his fingers on the elastic of his briefs, taking a moment to stare at Louis’ hand trapped inside, holding his cock, not moving.

He pulls it out of his legs and lies down again, hooking one arm around Louis’ head to kiss him with all of his desperation, need. It melts away his shyness.

Louis pumps Harry hard and fast, teasing the slit, breaking the kiss. A chant of embarrassing little noises leave Harry’s mouth, he can’t—he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care how needy he sounds, how he can’t get enough of Louis hand touching him.

Because, he can’t. He can’t get enough of that wonderful tight grip working his length up and down. So good, better than he could ever make himself feel.

“Like that, don’t you?”

Harry nods.

“Tell me.”

Harry wets his dry lips. “Good, Lou. So good.” He shifts his hips up, meeting Louis’ thrusting hand.

The red, wet crown hides itself between hard rock knuckles. Up and down. Harry shivers from head to toe. _Fuck_. It leaks more and more, shining Louis’ fingers.

“Can I give you a blowjob?”

 _Yes, yes, yes. Please._ He whimpers, letting his head fall back. “Yeah.”

Louis trails kisses down Harry’s torso as he fits himself in between Harry’s opened legs. He nuzzles his nose along the throbbing veins of his erection; his hands are a number of useless flesh and bones lying by his side.

“Gorgeous,” Louis says, kissing the tip. “You’ve such a nice dick, Harry.”

“Um, thanks.” Stupid. “I bet yours is just as—nice.” So, so stupid. _Shut up._

Louis huffs a warm chuckle, and then. Then—he sucks Harry’s cockhead into his mouth and slides it down to take all of him, slowly. Harry rests his elbows on the bed, lifting his body to look down at Louis’ stretched mouth around him.

His eyes are shut, hand pressing on his groin. Moves eager and frantic. That’s—the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, not even his fave porn beats the sight of Louis sucking cock. His cock.

Pleasure builds in the pit of his stomach, tightening his muscles. _No._

“Lou.” Why does he have to be so good with his mouth? Fuck. “I’m gonna come soon.”

Louis pries his eyes, humming. He _hums_ with his mouth full of Harry’s dick. The vibrations shake Harry’s whole body, he fights to keep holding himself. To keep his eyes glued to Louis.

“Louis, I’m gonna—”

He lets go of his erection with the filthiest, loud pop. Harry’s done; he arches his back and comes hard. Louis has barely put his mouth around him and he _came_. Fuck, fucking hell. Shuddering, Harry hides his face in his hands, breathing hard.

“Let me see you,” Louis wraps his fingers around Harry’s wrists.

“Noo.”

“Uncover your mouth, then.”

Harry does it. Louis licks inside it, pressing their lips hard. When they pull back, Harry’s hands are around Louis’ neck.

“You tricked me,” Harry says, body still singing.

“I’d never.” Louis kisses him. “D’you want to jerk me off?”

“I—” Harry tucks his bottom lip under his sharp teeth.

“That’s okay.” Louis’ lips skid over Harry’s skin. “Mind if I come over you?”

Harry shakes his head.

He wants it—to feel Louis’ cock pulsing in his hand, the weight of it on his tongue, his taste. He just—he can’t move. His hands are still lying by his side, still useless, numb. He can’t do more than watch Louis getting off on top of him, his muscles working on his release.

Angling his head, he catches the sight of Louis’ dick. _Just as nice_. Nicer. Way nicer than his own, for one, Harry’s pubes aren’t as dark and his cock isn’t as thick. His mouth waters with need and want. Why can’t Harry’s body _move_? Why he can’t go down on him?

Louis closes his eyes, letting out small gasps and little whimpers. Then, his balls tighten and he shoots his load all over Harry’s belly. His body collapses over Harry’s.

 **24.  
** Harry kisses Louis’ damp hair. “We’re a mess.”

Louis purrs against his chest, nestling himself. “Later, Haz.”

 **25.  
** Taylor is the first girl he sees.

Harry sits next to her under the morning light. They talk about the talent show, school and the most random stuff. It would be so easy to lean and kiss her, after all, this is what he wants. To kiss a girl.

To kiss a girl and prove himself he can. Still can. Harry kissed a girl before, what’s the problem now?

Louis. It’s Louis.

He can kiss Taylor, he can kiss any girl… problem is, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to look at the blue of Taylor’s eyes and then lock their lips.

He finds a rather lame excuse to walk away from her.

His legs want to run. Run into the woods and never stop, not even when his lungs hurt and his calves ache. Harry wants to scream until his vocal chords break.

A hand grabs his forearm before he can vanish into the trees—Louis.

“What’s the problem, Harry?” Concern. He’s concerned.

He’s nothing but a blur.

“It’s okay,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around his middle.

No. No. Run. He must run, and hurt, and ache, break.

“Harry, it’s okay.” Louis presses him closer. “It’s okay.”

He clenches Louis’ t-shirt, allowing the warm tears to go down his face and damp Louis’ left shoulder.

 **26.  
** Later that night, Louis doesn’t climb down his bed.

Harry braces himself, curled to his side.

 **27.  
** When Harry wakes up, only Louis’ bag is in the cabin, sitting next to his backpack on his bed. 

Maybe he’s having breakfast—without Harry. Well, they don’t need to be glued by the hip, right? They just… happened to wake up at the same time and go to the breakfast table together.

Yeah, that’s it.

Louis isn’t having breakfast.

Sighing, Harry turns back to the cabin. Time to pack, then.

 **28.  
** Using his chin to hold the top of his t-shirt, Harry folds it into an askew square. Just two more and he’s done. What Louis could be doing right now? At the lake? In… in town? Uh.

Louis is having fun _without_ Harry. Fine.

He shouldn’t have cried all over Louis yesterday. He can’t blame Louis, really. Harry himself wouldn’t waste time with a whiny baby.

Folding the last piece of clothing, Harry stuffs it in his bag and sits down on his bed. At least he made some memories, and Louis managed to give Harry the best summer he has ever had. Right here, in this bed, the best memory he could ask for.

“Harry.” Comes Liam’s voice. He zips his bag open.

“Hey, Liam.”

Liam shoots him a half smile and starts folding his t-shirts in unfairly perfect squares.

“D’you know where Louis is?”

“Yeah. I—” Carefully, Liam drops his t-shirt. “Look, Harry. You need to talk him, don’t come back without sorting it out.”

 _Sorting it out._ Okay. Harry can sort this out. He just needs to _see_ Louis.

“I get it,” Liam adds, placing a suspicious bottle under his clothes. “I was confused, too.”

Harry nods, biting his bottom lip. “Where he is?”

“Aiden’s camp. To return the guitar.”

Aiden. Ah. Maybe Louis—no. No.

Zipping his bag, Liam throws the strap over his shoulder. “Just don’t let him asking himself what if, y’know?”

With that, he’s out.

Harry lies down. Louis won’t take long, probably.

 **29.  
** A shake pulls Harry out of his black dream. It’s Louis.

“You’re going to miss the bus, Harry,” Louis says, backpack already on his back and bag sitting by his leg. He gives Harry a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s ready to go.

“Louis.” Harry rubs his eyes, sitting on the mattress. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t think we need to talk, really.” Louis sweeps his hair back, looking out the window. “We’re going to miss the bus.” Louis grabs his bag, walks toward the door.

Harry stays on the bed.

“C’mon, Harry.”

“I’m not going until we talk.”

Louis’ bag drops with a loud thud. “We don’t need to talk, Harry.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Louis leans into the door. “I get it. Everyone needs that guy to help them figure it out, if you’re gay or not. I was your guy. That’s fine.”

 _If you’re gay or not_. What? Does Louis think he’s… what?

“What?”

“And every gay guy needs to be interested in a straight one.” A dry laugh. “That’s like, a rule. It was supposed to happen anyway. It’s fine.”

“Louis…” Harry stands up, walks toward him. “You’re wrong.”

Louis crosses his arms tightly in front of his body, dipping his nails on his skin. “I don’t think so.”

That’s it; he needs to prove Louis wrong. He comes closer, takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders.

Louis stays still.

“You were right, I needed a guy like you to show me what I really want.” He slides his hands across Louis’ crossed arms, and with some work he manages to make Louis hug him back. Lightly. “And you’re wrong for thinking I’m straight. I’m—I’m not.”

He kisses the corner of Louis’ lips. “I’m not.”

Why doesn’t Louis say anything? Doesn’t do anything? Harry needs to—he needs to—he runs his hand along Louis’ stomach, it gets tense under his touch. Good. _Now._ He trails his fingers down, down, until he can cup the front of Louis’ shorts.

“I want you,” Harry says.

Louis blinks, blinks and blinks. Then, his hold tightens around Harry’s waist and his mouth crashes into Harry’s.

“I thought…” Louis says out of breath over Harry’s lips.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you and make you think—”

Louis pecks his lips, biting his bottom lip. Okay.

“C’mon, grab your bag. We’re really going to miss it,” Louis says.

 **30.  
** Harry grabs his bag. “I don’t mind staying here with you, though.” He smooths the sheet covering the mattress.

“I know it sounds appealing, but.” Louis gives Harry his hand.

His hand. To hold.

Harry sweeps his sweaty palm on his t-shirt, lacing their fingers together.

There are no eyes following them, no one taking notice.

“Remember what you said to me when we met?” Harry climbs the stairs, hand still caged.

He finds two seats in the back of the bus, right behind Zayn and Liam.

“What?”

Harry sits by the window. “About me changing my mind about the summer.”

Louis hums. Their thighs are pressed together, their fingers rest over his jean shorts like a shell.

Harry beams to himself. “I’ve changed my mind.”

_the end._


End file.
